


like nails on my skin, swallow my sin (hurt me again)

by Whogirl42



Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Ex Sex, F/M, Mutual Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Post-Affair, Pre-Canon, Smut, no feelings here what are you even talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whogirl42/pseuds/Whogirl42
Summary: Marisa honestly didn't know how it happened. One moment they were trading petty blows under the guise of an argument about the Magisterium's recent new policies, the next their mouths were pressed together, Asriel's hands leaving bruising touches that made her head spin.We should stop.Marisa and Asriel in the years after the affair.
Relationships: Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	like nails on my skin, swallow my sin (hurt me again)

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is remotely healthy. I'm under no illusions to this and neither should you. They are messed up and toxic and dysfunctional and that's why we love them.

Marisa honestly didn't know how it happened. One moment they were trading petty blows under the guise of an argument about the Magisterium's recent new policies, the next their mouths were pressed together, Asriel's hands leaving bruising touches that made her head spin.

_We should stop._

But how could they? Maybe they'd planned this all along without realising. Maybe there was a reason they chose to do this in a corridor not many took, at a time the Arctic Institute was at its most empty. Or maybe no matter their intentions, this was inevitable.

Marisa bit down hard enough on his lower lip to draw blood. The metallic taste had her grinning against his lips, and his grip on her hip tightened so much she gasped out in pain. He rewarded her with open-mouthed kisses down her neck, her collarbone, the skin of her shoulder. Marisa's hands found his shirt, dug under the hems to feel his warm skin, trail the lines of his form. 

_That's quite enough._ A voice that sounded uncomfortably like her mother's rang through her mind. Marisa had ignored that voice many times in the past where Asriel was concerned, and, well, that voice hadn't exactly been _wrong_. 

She halted her exploration of his fine figure and moved her attention downward, focusing on removing that which stood in the way of immediate release. Clever man that he was, Asriel caught onto her intent quickly. For once, they were on the same page. There was nothing romantic about it. Nothing to suggest this was anything more than a physical need. He still knew her body like he knew his heretical arguments and it wasn't long until she was coming sinfully undone.

Panting against his shoulder, the voice returned. _You've had your fun, now leave._ She tried, but then a growled, "Marisa," escaped his lips and she was drawn back into his embrace. For a brief, wondrous moment, she let herself enjoy it. Not for long enough to ease the pressure rapidly reforming between her thighs, but long enough for the alarm bells ringing in her head to increase in gusto, her mother's voice screaming at her all the reasons this was a terrible idea. 

Her body leaned into his, greedy for more. His eyes were heavy with lust and she knew in that moment he was hers.

She took a step back.

Her pride didn't allow her to run away. After hastily readjusting her clothes, she turned around and briskly walked in the opposite direction, ignoring both her hammering heart and the vulgar exclamations behind her. A brief stop at the women's restroom erased any evidence of her indiscretion. She conducted herself with grace and poise as she passed her fellow scholars and dismissed the serving girl's offer for supper to be brought up. Laying down in her soft bed, she remembered the gruff feeling of his unruly beard brushing her skin. Her fingers delved into her folds, and not for the first time, allowed that man to squirm his way into her most sinful of thoughts

.

  
  


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She was shoved forward, arms trapping her between the wall and the body behind her. Panic shot down her spine for the second before she recognised the aftershave. She barely had time to make sure the corridor was empty before it stopped mattering either way because his lips were trailing down her neck. 

She hadn't even known he was back in the city.

"You're a tease. Wicked, vile woman-"

"Missed me then?"

Asriel answered with a searing kiss above her collarbone, sucking so hard she knew it would later leave a bruise. She shoved her hips back, already feeling his hardness, and relished in his resulting moan. His hands left her and she was ready to slap him for it, but then he was pulling up her skirt and pushing down her undergarments and oh, the separating fabrics were gone. She braced her arms against the wall just in time to support herself under his thrusts. She hadn't been ready for it so soon, but the roughness of it was divine.

He came with her name rasped into her ear, over and over again like a prayer. He'd once told her he worshipped her more than any Authority and Marisa loved to let him prove it. Had it really only been a few weeks since their last encounter? Call it about a month, if she were to be generous. Before that had been a good few years _without._ Years of mediocrity and faked responses and _missing_ the sensations currently running up and down her body.

"Tell me how much you need this."

"Asriel..." His name escaped on breath, but that wasn't enough for him. He paused his movements and her body cried out in protest.

"Tell me how much you need me."

"Asriel, _please_."

The concession almost killed her but it was enough for him to pick up the pace, his hands touching and squeezing any part it could reach and she was close, so close. One more second, just one more thrust-

He pulled out. 

The lack of his touch had her cold. _What is he playing at?_ Marisa twisted around to glare at him. His face had lost the tension it usually carried, still enjoying the after-effects of _his_ pleasure, but his beautiful features twisted into a cruel mimic of a grin. 

"I'm merely returning the favour, dear." Then he kissed her obscenely gently like she was still that stupid girl who believed he might love her, before leaving her there.

A primal scream escaped both her and her daemon.

His taunting laughter echoed long after he was gone.

.

  
  


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.

Asriel had half a mind to throw the offending note into the fireplace. How dare she? Did she really think she could summon him and he'd rush off to please her?

Convincing ignorant fools to fund expeditions he'd once been able to afford from his own wealth had kept him trapped in the hornet's nest for weeks now. The urge to bury himself so deep inside her he'd forget his own disgraced name had him almost seek her out multiple times. Somehow, she was never present at the same parties as him, and if they were at the same lecture she was never unattended. It was both maddening and infuriating. It was the harsh reality check he'd desperately needed.

And now this note. He should throw it to the fire and be done with it. The mental image of Marisa waiting for him for hours upon hours- longing for a touch she'd never receive, longing for _him_ \- would keep him warm for the many cold months ahead of him in the North.

_Reject her and this offer won't come again._

Marisa was a prideful thing; not even high society's rejection of her after the affair was able to rid her of it. How degrading had the act of writing and delivering this note to him been for her? Ignoring the gesture would send her walls up higher than ever, cementing defences around her heart not even a panserbjørne could breach. After such humiliation, nothing he'd do would convince her to let him push her against a wall when the fancy struck. Years could pass before he felt her vicious tongue trail across his body again.

_Would that be so bad? Don't you want to be rid of this?_

He should. He didn't. Despite his hurt pride and common sense, he still wanted her. He wanted her curves pressed against his body and to kiss those cruel lips. He wanted to sink into her and hear her scream his name. He wanted to be the cause for her loss of control, to know only he could bring her to such a state and then lose himself alongside her.

Her elegant handwriting spelt out a time and address. Asriel knew the place; a motel shabby enough no one would expect to see either one of them there. Nostalgia washed over him and he forced those feelings aside. It was not the same. This wasn't two young lovers sneaking around for the chance to have even a few minutes in each other's arms. This was physical. The satisfaction of a base need and nothing more.

His mind made up, Asriel collected his coat from the chair he'd flung it on an hour earlier and left the room, Stelmaria trotting dejectedly at his heels.

He was late. It wouldn't do to seem over-eager, after all. Knocking on the designated door number, anticipation surged through him. A minute passed. Doubt entered his mind, worry that he'd waited too long to arrive and she'd already left in an outraged huff. 

He needn't have fretted. 

The door opened, and she was a vision in red. The dress clung to her curves and brought out the blue of her eyes, which narrowed at him as he knew they would. She always did come alive with her fury. So beautiful. There was no chance to speak or ogle her further because she pulled him forward by his tie and pressed her mouth against his in a punishing kiss. 

It was just as brutal as all the other times since they'd begun this twisted affair more fueled with hate than with the love that used to fill him.

She kicked him out the door the second they both finished.

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His funding secure, he was able to go on longer expeditions. His research took him far north, where the air was so cold it sank in his bones even with a roaring fire burning in front of him. There was no rush to return to civilization, no reason not to devote as much time as his findings demanded. So busy, he barely had time to think about the dark-haired siren he was apparently hopeless to resist.

Some days, Stelmaria spurned him on further, encouraging him to delve deeper into his research when all he wanted was to sleep. Other days, he'd catch her staring into the snow, and he knew her thoughts strayed less to their latest theories and more to the golden glint of that infernal monkey's fur. While Asriel could damn Stelmaria and commend himself for his restraint during the day, in the night, images of Marisa would sneak into his dreams. He'd wake up hard and furious and only memories of stolen moments could ease the ache.

He didn't intend on being gone for so long. He didn't realise how much he'd miss. Marisa was a new woman. No longer the shamed pariah, she was at the centre of every event. She wined and dined the fools of high society, charmed foreign scholars, and was never too far away from a Magisterium official who looked at her like she hung the moon. Asriel hated her. Of course she'd worm her way back into their good graces, brush _them_ and the child she abandoned aside as inconsequential. 

She'd always prided herself on control, but now it was made an art. Her careful mask had been cultivated and chiselled until it fit her perfectly. He wondered if anyone else could see her for what she truly was. Each word that left her lips was prescripted, every move infinitely calculated. Asriel took satisfaction that the only time she faltered was when her eyes finally locked in on him. He'd been gone so long she probably thought he'd never return. For a moment they were the only two people in the room. Then she was laughing brightly at whatever inane comment the Magisterium official beside her made and he was forgotten.

She studiously ignored him for the remainder of the evening and Asriel was perfectly fine with it. Happy, even. Just a few more days in this suffocating city and he'd be on his way.

. 

  
  


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. 

In years to come, he'd debate whether or not she'd done it deliberately. 

The corridor he took was far from the usual bustle of the institute. In it, hidden by clever architecture, was an alcove perfect for stolen moments of intimacy. He'd stolen many there. It was convenience, not nostalgia, that had him striding through that particular corridor on his way to discuss the finishing touches of his upcoming expedition with the head of the institute.

Familiar laughter sounded from the alcove. A deep voice accompanied it. Stelmaria snarled. Asriel continued on toward his meeting and sat through it like there was nowhere else he'd rather be. Leaving the office, he went via the same corridor. Familiar laughter sounded from the alcove, and he decided to extend his stay.

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"This is pointless," Stelmaria hissed after him. "We're wasting time for our research."

"Hush."

It was late. There was no one of consequence out this time of night. No one to see him thump on that gaudy door of hers. There was certainly no one to witness him grab her face, or to notice the daemons closing the door because their humans were two busy devouring each other.

All reservation towards him fell away. He felt it in the urgency of her kiss, in every attempt to bring their bodies closer. This time he didn't settle for rushed pleasure against the wall. He lifted her up, encouraged her to wrap her legs around his hips, and carried her to the bedroom.

She must have noticed the difference in him, but he didn't give her time to question it, already worshipping her body. He was going to _ravish_ her. Let her raise the ranks, let her take her lovers. In any future embrace, it would be his touch she yearned for. When she cried out with pleasure it would be _his_ name on her tongue. Marisa Coulter belonged to him and it was high time he reminded her of that.

Only when it was over did he realise his mistake.

She draped over him like she always did after sex, her nose pressed into the crevice of his neck, blowing soft gusts of air onto his skin. He made out a faint smile on her lips but from the angle he was at he couldn't see how it transformed her entire face. It took an uncomfortable crane of the neck, but he wasn't going to miss out on this rare opportunity. She was beautiful. He knew that, but it still blew him away every time he saw her. Asleep, the harsh lines disappeared from her face, making her look younger. If he closed his eyes he could pretend this was years ago.

He shifted his position to one which would allow him to keep watching her without exertion. She frowned at the movement and wound an arm around him. _Stay_ , it said, and he wanted nothing more. 

At the end of the bed, Stelmaria curled up with the golden monkey. Despite her previous protests, she now happily nuzzled into the monkey's fur. 

_You're an idiot,_ she'd told him earlier, and he should have listened.

Unlike in their previous trysts, he and Marisa had taken their time. They didn't stop until both were completely spent, completely done. For the first time in years, they could _indulge_. It wasn't enough. Already, he could feel his body gearing up for another round. She'd never be out of his system. He'd never not want her.

"You're thinking," she murmured.

"Always."

She frowned, her nose scrunched up adorably, and leaned in to kiss him. "This can't happen again," she said after an eternity, breaking from the languid kiss. 

"Agreed." He pulled her, adjusting so she was directly above him, and began lazy circles of his hips upwards.

"I have a reputation to uphold."

So did he. Oh, his would bounce back faster than hers, but the initial damage could impact his research funds. 

One of his hands reached out to squeeze at her breast and a moan tore from her throat.

"More. Harder." And then, " _Now_ ".

She collapsed against him, beyond satisfied, beyond gorgeous, and the words were on the tip of his tongue. 

_Marry me. Marry me and we can have all of this. We could take back Lyra and raise her as our own if you so wish. Travel to every corner of the world, and further still. Just say the word and everything could be ours._

"Don't come here again."

Her voice broke through his delusions, bringing him crashing down to reality. Stelmaria met his eyes, and he knew they were in agreement.

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.

Marisa watched him stride through the city. He hadn't come for long this time and was constantly busy. She couldn't help but track his movements, but she didn't approach him. He didn't accost her in a corridor. She didn't have a note slid under his door. He didn't visit her at her house.

Marisa watched him stride through the city towards the aircraft that would once again take him away and told herself she was glad. The traitorous monkey pined at the window and she dug her fingers into his skin and _pressed_ until his cries drowned out any part of her that might believe differently. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think! :P


End file.
